


Reunion... Or How Bucky Barnes Finally Managed To Get Some Closure.

by Katefkndoes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, High School, M/M, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-31 23:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katefkndoes/pseuds/Katefkndoes
Summary: In all honesty, Bucky couldn’t think of anything worse than attending his twenty-year High School Reunion.  And okay, maybe that was over dramatic, but he was a future thinking guy and he didn’t want to waste time looking back.  Just keep telling yourself that, Barnes, his own thoughts betrayed him.  He had received the invite six months before, took one look at it and deposited it in his recycling bin (see: future thinking).





	Reunion... Or How Bucky Barnes Finally Managed To Get Some Closure.

In all honesty, Bucky couldn’t think of anything worse than attending his twenty-year High School Reunion. And okay, maybe that was over dramatic, but he was a future thinking guy and he didn’t want to waste time looking back.  _ Just keep telling yourself that, Barnes _ , his own thoughts betrayed him. He had received the invite six months before, took one look at it and deposited it in his recycling bin (see: future thinking). And really, in the age of Facebook who bothered to send a formal invitation for anything other than a wedding? (Apparently, Sharon Carter, the former head cheerleader did. Given what she was like in school, it shouldn’t really have been a surprise to Bucky).

Not only had he had resolutely ignored the invitation, he had also carefully failed to mention he had received it to Natasha. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have realised that she would have received her own invitation, but he never claimed to be perfect. The red-head was his longest standing friend, having stuck with him since the second day of Middle school, and the driving force behind much of his social interaction of late. 

One month before the event he had finally received his Facebook invitation and had steadfastly not replied, (obviously Sharon was leaving no stone unturned in her attempts to ensure everyone’s attendance). Of course, Natasha was a force to be reckoned with, and if she decided that something was happening, she was going to make it happen. Which was why, a week before the reunion, he found his meticulously laid plans – to watch Netflix while consuming a pint of Ben and Jerrys – falling down around his ears.

“Have you got your outfit sorted for Saturday, yet?” She asked, apropos of nothing.

“What’s Saturday?” Bucky said quickly, caught completely unaware.

“The reunion.” The red-head replied, matter-of-factly, crossing her arms across her chest and fixing him with her get-your-shit-together-James glare.

“Oh… is it? I didn’t know.” He wrung his hands nervously, he had never been very good at lying to her. “I guess it’s probably too late to confirm now.” He added, hopefully. Natasha merely raised an eyebrow.

“James…”

“It’s Bucky,” he muttered in response, but it was an argument they had been having for over twenty years so he didn’t see a victory imminent.

“… I have known you for twenty five years.” She stated, and Bucky knew there was no point in arguing. They had known each other long enough for him to know when he was beaten. “Firstly, do you think you can lie to me?” He shook his bowed head. “Secondly, I already replied for you.” She tapped his chest in faux-reassurance.

“Well, I’m not dressing up.” He muttered, in defeat. All she did was fix him with a look and he knew that he was just going to have to do whatever she told him. Christ she was scary at times.

Which was why, despite his intention not to attend, he was currently sat on what he liked to call the antisocial table. (Seriously, he had told anyone who happened to pass of the unofficial title). Otherwise known as the corner table, which was the furthest away from the foot flow from the door, while also shielded from the dance floor by the bright disco lights with pointed to the dance floor. He was joined at the table by Clint who looked about as happy to be there as Bucky felt – so at least he had someone to be miserable with.

After all, they did say that misery loved company.

Occasionally, Bucky felt sorry for the blond, spending his days in a constantly failed battle of wills with Natasha – but then he remembered that Clint had taken the decision to marry her, so he really had no one to blame for himself. However, despite the fact that Clint had signed himself up for a lifetime of having his decisions overridden, the sandy blond was a picture of happiness as a stay-at-home dad to their two children. So mainly Bucky felt sorry for himself.

(That was another reason he didn’t want to attend this stupid reunion. Natasha and Clint were married, and they had a perfect life, and Sam had a great job and was making a difference in the world. And Bucky… Bucky was pretty much the same as he had been in High School – just a lot more jaded with a few more grey hairs. He had never moved away, he only ever had one real job. Thank fuck the bar was comped because he was about two drinks away from starting his own pity party.)

From his vantage point at the corner of the room, Bucky’s eyes scanned the room, looking for any sign of the one person he longed to see and wished to avoid in equal measure. The problem with reunions, he decided, was that they went again his new mantra of only looking forward. It had been twenty years, for God’s sake, he should have been over the blond by now. But the truth of the matter was that no matter how many other people he dated, whenever he was single (which was becoming increasingly frequent in his thirties) he found himself wondering what could have been if life had played out differently. If he hadn’t let Steve go - if he’d followed him to LA.

Maybe he was only one drink away from that pity party.

“He’s supposed to be coming.” Clint said, startling him out of his reverie.

“Uh, what?” He replied, trying, and failing, not to trip over his tongue. Clint looked at him, raising both eyebrows. (Obviously, Natasha had taught him a few things in their ten years of marriage, because Clint sure as shit couldn’t convey so much with a simple look back when they were in High School).

“The Pope.” Clint answered, sarcastically after a moment. “Who do you think?”

“I mean, I’m sure he’s probably too busy.”  _ God,  _ he hoped he was too busy. Mostly. The very last thing he wanted, when he was surrounded by people who wanted to brag about how well their lives were going was to be faced with the one who got away. Especially when said ‘one’ was going to be the topic of every conversation if he did make an appearance. 

“Nat said he’s coming. She has it on good authority from Sharon because she was  _ very _ excited that her aunt had seen him in the grocery store – you know how much Steve used to love Peggy’s English lessons – and he said he was definitely coming. Said he wouldn’t have confirmed if he wasn’t.” Bucky shook his head in disbelief. What were the fucking chances?

“Yeah, but he probably just didn’t…” Didn’t what? Didn’t want to be rude? Didn’t want to turn up and show people just how fucking successful he was? If their roles were reversed Bucky would definitely have attended if he was in the area because he’d had an awkward time in High School and would want them to know that he was successful.

“Well, Sam – you know they still talk, right? He said that he’s coming.” It hurt Bucky  a little a lot that Steve had managed to find time to stay in touch with Sam when they hadn’t managed to keep in touch. “Oh speak of the devil…” Bucky’s heart jumped up into his face, but fortunately it was only Sam who made an appearance at their anti-social table. “Wilson, we were just talking about you.”

“Oh… should I ask?” His smile was still gap-toothed and good natured. Before Clint could reply with something that would probably make Bucky want to throw himself off the roof, Bucky replied.

“I was just wondering whether you were coming. You know how much I  _ love _ everyone we went to school with, present company excluded of course.” It wasn’t a lie. Though they were not intimate friends, he had seen Sam a handful of times a year since graduation, and he genuinely liked the guy. (Well, he did, until Clint pointed out his continued relationship with Steve).

“You were never one for false niceties.” Sam acknowledged, pulling up a chair to sit next to Clint. “Still, at least I know I’m safe from inquiries about our high school celebrity.” He rolled his eyes. “I swear, if Lilian had asked me one more question about Steve I would have tipped my drink over her head.” He gentling demonstrated the action with his half-full glass.

“No you wouldn’t.” Clint supplied.

“Well no, but I would have imagined it vigorously.” He said with a laugh.  _ Christ, why can’t he just be an asshole _ , Bucky thought. It would be much easier if he could just convince himself that Steve had gone off and turned into a complete asshole.

It was hard not to like Sam. Which was probably why Steve still wanted to talk to him. Unlike Bucky, who made it very easy for people to dislike him.

And hey, apparently it was pity party o’clock.

They passed twenty or so minutes in companionable conversation – easy chat about what they had been up to since their last meeting, and how they had found out that Tom and Michaela had split up. It had caused quite the scandal – Michaela had posted on Facebook that Tom had run off with his (male) secretary and left her and the three kids to fend for themselves. Which was obviously complete bullshit because Michaela was still living in the family home and had never worked a day in her life – so clearly the guy was still playing the bills. “Coulda called it.” Clint supplied when the topic of Tom’s sexuality was raised. And really, Bucky wasn’t surprised that Tom was gay, he was just surprised that he was that much of clichéd douche bag. Running off with a secretary was so 1990. They were just discussing Phoebe’s boob job when a murmur passed over the crowd of people, and there was a general movement towards the direction of the entrance.

“Oh, looks like Mr Rogers has arrived.” Sam said, looking more than slightly amused. Bucky tried to swallow his own heart – which for some reason seemed to be somewhere at the back of his throat. “I’d go and save him, but he was supposed to be my ride and I ended up in an Uber – so quite frankly, fuck him.” He laughed loudly, taking a long drink from his beer. And Clint offered Bucky look. There were innumerable camera flashes before Steve appeared – led through the crowd by an annoyed looking Natasha - which meant that things must be bad because the red-head liked to play her cards close to her chest, hence why she was such a good lawyer - with Sharon practically plastered to his side.

In the twenty years since he had last laid eyes on Steve in the flesh, the blond had matured into an extremely good looking man. His hair was still think, and a golden blond, but was no longer plastered back off his face with copious amounts of gel. However, he walked with his almost impossibly broad shoulders squeezed together, and his head slightly downcast as though he was deeply uncomfortable under the scrutiny of people he attended school with. For a moment Bucky wondered why Steve had bothered attending when he looked like he wanted nothing more to disappear.  _ That’s the definition of projection, Barnes,  _ he thought to himself. He had spent a lot of time trying to analyse his own mind, and he had come to the conclusion that he should spend less time trying to force his own feelings onto others and concentrate on dealing with his own issues. 

Right now the issue he had to deal with was standing about twenty feet away from him. The Steve Rogers he had known was dead and gone, and all that remained was a film star with the slightly warped face of his former best friend- boyfriend - whatever. Steve didn’t hate the attention – he loved it, craved it even. Why else would he had left Bucky to run off to stardom.

There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to deal with this.

Finally, obviously feeling Steve had suffered enough, Sam managed to extricate him from Sharon’s clutches and aided Natasha in her mission to escort him over to the AS table. Bucky watched as he made his way across the room, trying to will his heart beat to calm. If he hadn’t been so caught up with watching the blond, he could have thought of an excuse to leave, but as it was it was only going to look like he was avoiding Steve if he moved. And Bucky was stubborn. He was the one who still lived in Brooklyn. He wasn’t going to be moved because Steve had come back to where he didn’t belong anymore.

Before he knew what was happening, Steve was standing in front of him. His once lanky frame had bulked out with muscle – no doubt a result of the latest Superhero he was playing - and the stubble at his jaw only accentuated the angles of his face. In the years since High School many of their classmates had begun to go to seed, their waistlines spreading and hairlines receding. Steve didn’t seem to have either of those problems – in fact he looked better approaching forty than he had at eighteen. Next to him, Natasha – the traitor – watched Bucky with a curious expression.

Bucky steadfastly kept his face neutral, because he was not about to give Natasha any ammunition for their future discussions.

“Hey man,” Clint greeted him easily and Bucky wondered whether he was the only person who didn’t keep in touch with Steve, because they seemed comfortable in each other’s presence.. “You look like you could do with a drink.” Steve nodded, seemingly in a daze and Clint took that as an excuse to go and procure him a drink to save the actor from having to fight his way through the group of women who seemed to be waiting for an excuse to try and talk to him. And wasn’t that the biggest joke of all? None of those women wanted to know him when he was the ungainly theatre nerd who was twenty pounds underweight and didn’t know how to speak to people. Natasha looped her arm with her husband’s to accompany him, but Bucky couldn’t miss the pointed look she gave Sam.

Fucking traiters, the lot of them.

“Oh, hey I’ll come with you.” Sam called after them. 

So that was the plan then, leave him alone with Steve. Like that was some sort of magic fix-it option. Like it was some sort of game. As if he hadn’t struggled with their break-up for years. And now he was just supposed to be alone with the stranger he had once loved.

What. A. Delight. 

And totally not what Bucky had been hoping to avoid at all costs. 

He really needed to get better friends. Real friends wouldn’t leave him in his hour of need – certainly not when everyone he hated at High School were ready to be a waiting audience. Bucky had never wanted a hole to open up and swallow him as much as he had in that moment - not even when he had tripped up on the way up the stairs to graduation and Jack Rollins had called him a “fag” in front of everyone. (And really, what did his sexual orientation have to do with being clumsy? The guy was too dumb to be worth getting hung up over.)

“Hey Buck,” the blond started awkwardly, holding out a hand. Bucky was incredibly mature and managed to resist the urge to deny Steve the use of his nickname. He had spent the entire night trying to avoid drawing any attention to himself - not that it was hard, he wasn’t the one people wanted to get a piece of. 

“Hey superstar.” He replied, trying to go for coolly nonchalant but ending up spitting the words out.. “I’d say you look good, but that’s probably all you hear these days. I still remember the skinny theatre kid who no one wanted to know.” It sounded bitter, but in his moment of annoyance he didn’t care. It was almost like an out of body experience, like he was watching the car crash happening from above his own body. The alcohol had loosened his tongue, and he seemed incapable of voicing his thoughts. (And really, he was going to have to rethink the notion that he was a future thinking guy, because if he  _ was  _ then he would have foreseen the need to be sober for this interaction). “You should straighten those massive shoulders of yours and parade around the room – give the people what they want.” He hadn’t meant to be so abrasive, the words chosen just to try and hurt.

Fuck, he needed another drink. 

He had spent many nights lying awake imagining this moment but he’d never really seen this outcome.. In this better dreams – he was always better looking, and had a beautiful man on his arm - he had always been incredibly mature, rational and almost aloof. When he turned to walk away, he always left Steve looking longingly at him, the way he did when they were sixteen. Of course, he’d merely hold on to his gorgeous boyfriend’s hand and smile graciously, showing Steve just how much he he didn’t care, and how much he had moved on. However, in this nightmares, he’d ended up crying in a corner, while the football team accompanied by Steve, stood over him slinging around homophobic slurs and taking turns to literally kick him when he was down. 

The reality of the situation involved a lot more bitterness.

Steve let out a sigh.

“Everyone wants something,” he said a little bitterly before adding in a quieter voice, “thought you’d be different.”

“Maybe I would have been if you’d given me a chance.” Bucky replied back, crossing his arms and sizing up Steve. 

Yup, this was going brilliantly. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Could almost feel the eyes around the room watching them, no doubt waiting to see why the superstar was interested in a no one. As though they had all forgotten that they used to be friends.

“I get it…” he pushed a hand through his artfully tousled hair causing his well fitted shirt to pull tight across his shoulders and the action only incensed Bucky. 

“No, you really don’t.” Bucky reached over to down the rest of his drink. Fuck it, he was in too deep to back down now. “You were the one who ran off to LA at the earliest opportunity.” That was a low blow, the only reason that Steve had gone in the first place was because his mother had wanted him to chase his dream, and she had passed on a matter of months before their graduation. Steve had barely managed to keep their apartment long enough to finish school, and had used the remainder of Sarah’s savings to buy a cheap car and get set up in LA. “You were the one who stopped replying to me. You don’t get to come over here and play the victim.” Bucky could feel his hands shaking, coming back down from his odd out of body experience.

“I made mistakes.” Steve admitted.

“Yeah, you don’t get to come over to me and say that.” Bucky replied angrily. In for a penny, in for dollar. If he was finally going to get an answer to all of the things that he wanted, then he had to ask the questions.

Maybe this was what people meant by facing your fears?

Christ, had he always been this melodramatic? He couldn’t remember.

“Buck, you don’t understand. You don’t know what it was like.” Steve took a step closer, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the brunet.

“No, I wouldn’t. Because you didn’t tell me.”

“Mom was gone… I was all on my own in a strange city with people I didn’t know… ” Apparently, Steve wanted to get in on the pity party. Well, he wasn’t about to let that happen. Famous, rich, good looking people need not apply for an invitation to attend.

“Well, that looks like it worked out terribly for you.” Bucky grabbed his arm, and pointed out the Rolex he was wearing. 

“Well at least you had Brock to keep you company.” Steve sniped back, finally lowering himself to Bucky’s level. Nevertheless, the words caused him pause and Bucky blinked.

Was that really what this was all about? Brock had been the dick he had shared a dorm with back in freshman year, and sure they had always been together but that was out of necessity rather than any affection. Hell, he had moved out into shared accommodation with Gabe, Dugan and Monty the second they found a suitable house.

“So what? You broke up with me via text because you were jealous. You have got to be fucking kidding me.” He kept his voice low, because the last thing he wanted to Sharon and her gang of followers from hearing what was going on. “Brock was an asshole. And for your information, I never fucked him.” He sat down in a huff, keeping his arms folded and staring resolutely at the stupid fucking crystal vase that held a bunch of tulips in the middle of the table.

The air shifted around him and he felt Steve sit next to him, mirroring his closed posture and breathing in annoyance. Sam arrived presently, looking between the two men and seeing the tension, before placing two glasses of beer on the table.

“I’ll just leave these here...” he said, and then motioned somewhere in the direction of the bar, “… and I’ll go over there.” Bucky was going to have to review his opinion of the other man. Maybe he could hate him after all.

Wordlessly, both Steve and Bucky leaned over and reached for their respective drink.

“You hold your liquor any better than you did?” He found himself almost whispering after taking a long swig, and dared a look in the blond’s direction. He couldn’t help but notice just how big Steve looked, how out of place, so different to what Bucky remembered. When they were young, the blond had been positively waif-like with collar bones as fine as a bird bones and always the shortest - smallest all over really – in their class. Even after his growth spurt had stretched him out in all the right directions, he had never been the largest guy in the room. Now, the blond held himself tightly – squeezing into the smallest place possible and was still probably the first person anyone noticed everywhere he went.

One thing that remained unchanged however, was the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth at Bucky’s comment.  _ That _ , was almost achingly familiar.

“I’ve had a bit of practice,” he replied.  _ Why couldn’t he just have used the Hollywood smile?  _ Bucky wondered to himself. It was like the world was out to get him. That smile was the one they shared when they were conspiring against their mothers to climb out of the fire escape and go to the park, it was the one they wore when they bunked off school to go to Coney Island, and it was the one Steve gave him when he first kissed him.

Bucky could almost feel Natasha roll her eyes at him. Twenty-years on and he was still the same pathetic mess of a man-child that he was when he Steve moved away. For all the hate he had spewed over the years whenever anyone mentioned the blond (let alone had watched one of his films) he had couldn’t hate that smile. His smile – their smile.

“I loved you.” Steve said matter-of-factly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I know.” Was all Bucky could respond. That had never been in dispute – not really.

That’s why it hurt so much.

That’s why he had never really gotten over it.

“I was getting rejection after rejection – and you just seemed so happy in school, and Brock was always there when I called and I just…” he let out a sigh, and his shoulders deflated. “I wasn’t in a good place and I – I fucked up.” He shrugged one shoulder. 

It was oddly cathartic to hear Steve say that. Like a balm poured onto his still aching wound. 

“Yeah, you did.” He agreed, pursing his lips and running them across his teeth as he considered his own position. “I could have called – put up a fight.” He conceded. 

And really, this was progress. If he had a therapist, he felt sure they would be screaming breakthrough at him. 

“Can’t always expect you to clean up my messes.” Bucky almost laughed.

“Why change the habit of a lifetime?” He took a slow drink from his beer. “So why didn’t you call after.” Bucky Barnes asking the important questions– master of his own emotions – Natasha would have been so proud. Not only had he managed to reign in his anger, he had even managed a quip. He barely recognised himself.

And really, this was going  _ so _ much better than he had ever hoped.

Steve carded his hands together and turned in his chair to look at him.

“It was almost two years before I started getting work, and by the time I did… I dunno.” He took a deep breath. “I mean, according to all reports you didn’t want to know me...” So apparently, everyone did still talk to him - he stored that information for later. Bucky opened his mouth to speak but Steve cut him off, “why should you have?” He shrugged his shoulders. “And things were just so busy and…” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair again – which Bucky found endearing rather than infuriating upon a second viewing. “And I’m just making excuses. I guess it was easier not to try.”

“Uh, I know that feeling.” And fuck-a-doodle-do, did he ever know that feeling. Wasn’t that what prevented him from moving on? That lingering little bit of hope because he wasn’t brave enough to find out. Steve smiled that smile again – the one he’d never seen in any of the movie.

“Think my mum would crack us both upside the head with her spoon if she was still around.”

“You know, I never worked out how she managed to make it hurt that much and not leave a mark.” Bucky rubbed the back of his head at the memory. “Shame she couldn’t have knocked some sense into us.” Steve barked out a laugh.

“Yeah, I always had a thick head.” He said, in the self-deprecating way his fans loved. Bucky had watched a  lot  few interviews, and read  most some of the comments. (And maybe, that was his favourite form of personal torture when he was morose and drunk, but was neither here nor there).

“Speaking of thick…” he managed to gently Steve on his arm, “I wasn’t sure Nat was gonna be able to pry Sharon and co off you, they certainly seem to like the new you.”

“Which is odd, because I’m pretty sure most of them didn’t know my name when we shared classes.” The brunet laughed, his first real laugh all evening.

“Oh, there he is.” Came a sickly sweet voice from over Steve’s right shoulder. Evidently, Lorraine – former assistant head cheerleader and shining example of the type of person Bucky wanted to avoid - had managed to calm herself enough to start focusing her attention back on Steve. “Darling come over here and speak to Steve.” The blond in question, looked Bucky and rolled his eyes, just as a hand caressed its way over Steve’s shoulder. “Hi Steve, you remember my husband, Gil, right.” She said sweetly.

Bucky remembered Gilmore Hodge. He remembered the time he had beaten Steve six ways from Sunday in Middle school because he said he liked art class more than gym. Judging by the look on Gilmore’s face (with Bucky was glad was crowned with no hair) he had chosen not to remember that particular incident. Judging from the look on Steve’s face, he definitely did. Nevertheless, he stood to greet the couple, a smile – Bucky was happy to see it was the Hollywood smile as he picked up his beer – plastered across his lips.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Steve lowered his voice slightly, and Lorraine looked as though she was contemplating divorce. “But I gotta know his secret.” Hodge blinked several times, and Lorraine looked completely nonplussed. “I need to know how he managed to get himself a girl as gorgeous as you.” Bucky nearly snorted his drink through his nose.

“Thank you, but I should be asking for your secret.” He gestured up and down Steve’s body. The blond, Bucky noticed, was no longer trying to make himself look small, laughed loudly.

_ Huh, that’s interesting _ , Bucky thought.

“I lift heavy things, and then I put them down again and repeat until I’m tired.” Bucky did snort his drink that time, and Steve looked at him with his eyes sparkling in delight. The Hodge’s were both rendered mute. “I’m just kidding.” He said, with that award winning smile again. “I have a personal trainer, we do a lot of boring things, but I like to focus on the fight training, a bit of MMA, Krav Maga, that kind of thing. Gotta make sure I can take care of myself.” He shrugged, and Lorraine actually batted her eyes at him when she replied.

“I’m sure that’s not an issue.”

“Not any more, no.” He replied, his eyes firmly on Hodge’s. 

“Yes, well, it was good to see you Steve.” He said after a beat. “But we really should go and speak to Rollins. Isn’t that right, Honey.” He put a hand on the small of his wife’s back, Bucky could almost feel the waves of disappointment flowing from her.

“Oh yes…” she said. “It was really lovely to see you again, Steve.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” the blond replied, leaning in to peck her on the cheek, before offering Gil a swift handshake.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” Steve bemoaned, moments later after he had downed the rest of his beer and resituated himself next to Bucky.

“I’m just shocked that little Stevie Rogers finally got himself some game. I think you made Lorraine’s year.” A smirk toyed at the edge of the brunet’s mouth. 

“It’s called acting.” The younger man rolled his eyes.

“Oh, is it? Well, Hodge is a dick and deserved to be taken down a peg or two.”

That was the understatement of the decade. The man worked for a law firm over on Grandville Street – not that Bucky could see how the hell someone as useless as Hodge had managed to pass the bar. Nevertheless, he was notorious for protecting scumbag landlords who charged exorbitant rents to vulnerable people while failing to provide for their basic needs. (And Bucky had lived in one of those buildings so he knew just how bad things were). Thankfully, Natasha had done what was she was so good at and had secured win for a class action lawsuit, which meant that such practices were becoming more and more difficult. And fuck feeling sorry for Clint because his wife was a rockstar.

“Doesn’t mean I get to be an asshole.” Steve said, carefully.

“No, but I gotta be honest, I kind of enjoyed it.” He admitted, finishing the last remnants of his beer.

“Yeah, thirteen year old me can die happy.” Steve agreed.

“Do you think we should let the others know they can come back over?” Bucky asked after a beat, nodding to where Sam, Clint and Natasha were leaning up the bar and trying to make it look like they weren’t watching their every more.

“I, uh,” Steve took a breath. “I might not get another chance to ask.” He said, and whether that was for himself or for Bucky’s benefit he had no idea. “I’m in town till Thursday and I’d really like to see you before I go back.” The blond finished.

Bucky took a second to mull it over. Surprisingly, given how the night had started, he wasn’t averse to the idea. After all, what did he really have to lose?

“Monday, 3pm work for you?” He said with a little grin.

“Anytime, anywhere.” Steve said, echoing the smile.

“Excellent. Now, I don’t know about you, but I could do with another drink. And Clint is paying.” He turned in his chair and raised his empty glass towards their friends. Clint clearly said something, and Natasha fixed with a death glare before he turned towards the bar. 

“Should be Sam,” Steve said. “He bet me a hundred bucks that we’d make up the moment we spoke to each other.”

“You ever get the feeling your friends are conspiring against you?” Bucky asked as the group swerved the way through the crowd towards them.

“I can’t say I mind.” Steve shot him a grin.

  
  
  



End file.
